I'm Your National Anthem
by valonqar
Summary: Two of the three left, and the Capitol wants something something to root for. Well, Seneca Crane is known for giving the people what they want. Injured, trapped in a cave, Katniss and Cato find themselves pawns in an even bigger game than they could have imagined. Lucky for them, together they just might be able to figure out how to play. T for now, may move to M.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I know there's a lot of Catoniss fics like this, but I think this one is going to be a lot different...if you stick around you'll realize what I mean XD Reviews are always much appreciated, as is CONSTRUCTIVE critisism! And sorry for the shortness of this chapter - I just want to see if people are interested before I continue n_n Much love!**

_Shit_.

The breath leaves Katniss' lungs in one swift rush, her eyes squeezing shut as her body hits the rocky surface of the earth impossibly hard. She can feel an impossibly heavy weight pinning her to the ground, hands squeezing her wrists and nails digging into her flesh like knives, and somewhere in the back of her mind she thinks absently that this must be the moment she dies.

_But where's Peeta?_

It's the only coherent thought running through her mind - her concern for him overshadows all else, distracting her from the shooting pain that's running through her back, distracting her from the fact that she's seconds away from her death. _Where's Peeta? Did he get away? _And even though she knows that he didn't, that there's no chance in hell that he could outrun Clove, she likes to think that maybe, just maybe he did.

They had been so certain that they were safe, the cave sheltering them from the harsh weather and the hawk-like vision of Cato and Clove. Days they had spent lying there with no disturbances - they knew they would have to leave eventually, of course; they knew the threat that lay in front of them, and they were preparing. Resting up, enjoying their time alive before the harsh reality of their situation came back in again. They had been safe, they had been _careful_. Always watching, waiting, _ready_. Thresh was still out there doing his best to hide in the shadows, but Foxface was dead, and really it felt as if only the four of them remained, the predators and their ever-watchful prey.

But they had found them. Peeta had left for just a minute, just to get some water, and he had told her that he would be safe, he promised, they had nothing to worry about, and then they had found them. Katniss had heard the shouts from outside just moments before Cato had entered the cave, enough time for her to grab a knife, but hardly enough to prepare herself to take him on. Because he was huge and although she was tough, she knew she was, she had proved that enough, put next to him she looked like an insignificant child. And as she stood there facing him, knife in hand, trying to look much more prepared for this than she was, all she could think was, _'Prim, Rue, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry I lied to you,' _and then,

_'Peeta. Run.'_

From there, everything became a blur. Cato tackling her, the sound of the earth in the cave shifting around them, Peeta shouting her name, Clove screaming in delight, Katniss clawing at Cato's face, dragging her knife across his side and piercing his flesh the best she could, him tearing the knife away and throwing it outside the cave, the sickening feeling of the bone of her leg crushing beneath her. He was proving a point - that he didn't need weapons to kill her, that he could do it with his own two hands and not even break a sweat.

_This is where I die. Prim, Rue, Peeta, Gale...I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry._

She spat in Cato's face then, a final act of defiance, as if the simple action was in itself damning him to hell. "Fuck you," she snarles, bearing her teeth as the evening light begins to fade from the cave, the darkness slowly swallowing them whole. "Fuck you and your fucking games. Go wear the crown - it was always yours anyways, wasn't it?"

The smile on his face is disarming, part sneer and part genuine glee, and it's cruel enough to instil both genuine fear and genuine loathing into her heart. Because she knows him, knows what he's capable of, and she knows how much he's enjoying this. How much he's enjoyed all of it. Every kill, every drop of blood shed has been a trophy of it's own to him, and now he's about to get the ultimate prize by killing her. He's about to take it all, and she's about to die. Her and Peeta both; without the other, neither of them will make it out alive, and she's sure that the horrifying realization of that fact is shown clear on her face.

He's about to say something back to her. Some sort of scathing remark or sarcastic comment, no doubt. Getting the last word in before he goes for the kill - it's such a classically career move that it sickens her to her core. He's about to say something, but then they hear it, and for a moment all the world is still.

A cannon, the noise piercing through the crisp evening air like shattered glass.

_Peeta, _she knows it is, and judging by the grin on Cato's face, he knows it too. And he lifts his hand up to go for the crushing blow, smirking at her with anxious anticipation in his eyes. "Looks like your little love story has come to a tragic end, Fire Girl," he taunts, his voice mocking, and Katniss resists the urge to spit in his face once more. She won't give him that satisfaction. Not again.

And then they hear it. Another cannon, another cause for lost breath and disbelief. Because two of four have died, and now only two of the four are left.

Katniss squeezes her eyes shut, fully preparing herself for the fatal blow any minute now. But instead, all she feels is a weight off of her chest, all she sees is a blood-soaked Cato pushing himself off the wall, all she hears is his anguished cry for his partner, her name shouted over and over in a voice so unlike the one that was proclaiming her doom just moments before, a voice that is raw and filled with a kind of emotion she didn't think he was capable of.

All she sees is darkness, and the longer she stares, the faster the darkness turns into light until she doesn't see anything anymore.

"Sir? The Capitol isn't happy with the twelve kid's death, and they _definitely_ aren't happy about their Fire Girl almost being killed by the boy from two."

Seneca's head snaps towards the red-faced, bloated man, furrowing his brows. Of _course_ the Capitol wasn't happy - they were loving the romance that the twelve kids had started up, and loving the little Girl on Fire even more. It was almost pathetic how easily entertained they were, and he only counted himself lucky that he knew what they wanted.

Danger. Romance. Forbidden love. Sexual tension. _Give them something to root for. _If they couldn't root for their fairy-tale romance any more, then they could root for something else. Something more powerful, something new, something fresh, something that would keep them on their toes and begging for more. Because they weren't ready for these games to be over just yet - not when they were getting so good, not when the Capitol was finding themselves so pathetically involved with these tributes lives. They wanted more, and he would give it to them, give them so much more they wouldn't even know what to do with it.

There was a reason he had lasted this long as Game Maker, after all.

"Bring down the rocks," he ordered the man, waving his hand. "Cover the entrance of the cave. Trap them in, and make sure that our career friend won't be able to move for a long time. Same with the girl - can't have them killing each other too quickly, can we?"

The room looked at him in shocked silence, clearly not getting his angle. _Amateurs. _"Sir?" The man spoke up again, his annoyingly weak voice wavering pathetically from both nerves and confusion. "I don't understand...you don't want them to be able to kill each other? Why?" And although this man is questioning his actions, and although Seneca knows he should be punished, all her does is smile. Because they're all thinking the same thing, those fools, and they're all too blind to really see what was going on.

"We're going to give the people of the Capitol what they want," he tells them, teeth glinting in the cool stark lighting of the room. "We're going to give them something to root for."

When Katniss awakens, the first thing she registers is _pain_.

Her leg is throbbing, twisted at an angle that surely can't be natural, and she notes that it must be broken. She's going to have to try and set that later - with what, she doesn't know, but it's not the kind of break that's miraculously going to heal itself. She's seen enough broken bones while helping her mother and Prim to know what a bad one looks like, and beyond even the pain that she was feeling, simply by looking at her leg she can see that it's going to take some healing time.

The next thing she notices, rather belatedly, is that she's alive.

Gasping, Katniss whips her head around in a frenzied attempt to take in her surroundings, noting with dull amusement that she's still in the cave. The cave to which the entrance is now completely covered, blocked by rocks that must have fallen...how? She doesn't know, and she doesn't care to find out. Because she's trapped with half a canteen of water and some berries in her bag, and Cato is still out there, looking, searching, for _her._

At least, she thinks he is, until she hears the groan from the cave wall opposite her. And although it's dark, although she can't see much but the outline of his body, she knows she sees the boy who had just tried to kill her...how long before was that? Surely not that long, it couldn't have been, no more than a day. The boy who assisted in the demise of Peeta, of Rue, the boy who took a sick pleasure in every kill that me made. An animal, and she was trapped in the cave with him, and the most horrifying part of all is that somehow she's not even dead. It should be a reassurance, but all Katniss can think is that he's got something awful planned for her, that he's going to torture her until she looses her mind, that it'll be days before she's dead, days filled with pain and suffering and endless guilt. Guild because she broke her promise to her sister, guilt because she couldn't help Rue, guilt because she wasn't there for Peeta.

Guilt because she had let a monster win, and because she could do nothing to stop him.

"Just kill me," she had intended to make the words sound menacing, like a challenge, but her voice quivers and instead she sounds like nothing more than a scared little girl. "Do it now. I'm here, I'm yours for the taking. Just _do_ it. You've already won, at least give me a honourable death." Not that he knows anything of honour, but she has to try. She has to try for Prim, so her little sister isn't forced to watch her death dragged out on television. She has to do it for her district. She has to do it for herself.

But he doesn't answer. Instead all he does is moan, and although it takes a moment for it to really register, Katniss finally sees what's happened. She finally understands why he hasn't killed her after all.

His arm lay by his side, the bone jutting out of the skin of his forearm like a pearly white spear. And his foot - on it rests a fallen boulder, one that had probably crushed every single bone in it, and she realizes with a sinking feeling in her stomach that he's even worse off than she is. He's weak, vulnerable in front of her, and she has no weapon, and she can't even move.

Somewhere she knows Seneca Crane is laughing his head off. Somewhere she knows that the Capitol is sitting on the edge of their seats, anxious to see what will unfold between the Girl of Fire and the merciless killer from District Two while they cannot move, while they're trapped in a hole with hardly enough food and water to last the two of them a week. Somewhere she knows that President Snow is anxiously awating her death, that Prim is trying not to cry, that her mother is trying desperately to hold on, that Gale is sitting in a forest, waiting, that Peeta's family is grieving for their son that she couldn't save.

Somewhere she knows that the world is watching.

_Let them watch_, she thinks, eyes fluttering shut as conciousness slips from her grasp once more. _I won't give them what they want. I won't give in._

_I won't._

_I can't._


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Thank you all for the positive reviews! They mean so much! Basically, Seneca wants to create a good show, but he also knew that the Capitol would have been outraged if their favourite had died so suddenly, without even a chance. Hopefully that answers your questions :)**_

_'You're dead, Fire Bitch.'_

_She hears him before she sees him. Her breath catches in her throat - any other time this noise would have been practically impossible to hear, but in the pre-twilight hush of the arena, with only the two of them left standing, it's as loud as the shot of the cannon that will announce her death in just moments. Katniss knows she cannot afford these kind of thoughts, that she owes it to Prim and to Rue and to Gale and to Peeta, forever to Peeta, but she also knows the reality of her situation. She knows what she's facing, and she knows she has to be realistic about it. She knows she doesn't have any other choice._

_But she has to keep fighting, as well. So she whips around to face him, and there he stands, over six feet of muscle and strength and evil, an insanity that she can see clear in his crystalline eyes. Katniss knows what she is to him. Scum, trash, prey. She knows what he'll do if he gets his hands on her. _When.

_But she knows also how she's been raised. She knows that Haymitch is watching her, that her mother and Prim are watching her, that Gale is watching her, that her district is watching her, that the world is watching her. Katniss knows what they'll think if she gives up, if she falls at his feet in defeat like he clearly expects her to do. She knows that there's a fire burning deep within her - she's from twelve, after all. The district of coal and fires and poverty and struggles and strength. The district that should have died out long ago but continues to fight, to carry on, to never give up. So she knows what she has to do._

_She runs._

_'Run Fire Bitch! Run run run as fast as you can!" He's _enjoying_ this, that much is certain. Katniss realizes dully that she doesn't have a weapon - where is her bow? She could have sworn she had it on her just moments before, but there's no time to think of that now, not when he's so close behind her with the prize of her life so close to his grasp._

_'I plan on it,' she growls back, and she can hear his laughter not far back, a kind of maniac glee in the sound. But she doesn't turn to look, doesn't hesitate a moment, just keeps running and running and..._

'No.'

_Stops. Because Peeta's there, except it's not him, not at all. It's his corpse, desecrated and torn apart, with teeth marks in his neck and chunks of flesh hanging off of his face. Could Clove have...? Katniss never thought the girl was that cruel, that insane, that far gone, but the image of Peeta is too much for her to shake off. And he's there, just feet in front of her, staring, making a noise that's somewhere between a moan and a cry, and she finds rather suddenly that her feet can't move. She's stuck, stuck in some sort of invisible cage with no way out, and all she can do is look at Peeta and apologize, over and over and over._

_'I'm so sorry!' she yells, although he doesn't seem to hear her at all, not really. 'I tried so hard! I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I failed you, I failed them all, I'm so sorry...'_

_And then there's a weight on top of her, bringing her down to the ground, and there's knees digging into her sides and hands clutching her throat, squeezing it as if it were a toy, squeezing the life out of her, and all she can here is the laugh of a madman, and all she can see is the ground beneath her as it slowly begins to fade into black. _

_'Time's up, Fire Bitch. No where to run now.'_

Katniss wakes to a scream, and she thinks it might be the most horrible sound she's ever heard in her life.

_Peeta, _she thinks in a panic, but as she attempts to push herself off the ground and fails miserably, she is given a firm and painful reminder of the previous day's events. Cato attacking her, breaking her leg, Peeta and Clove dying, the wall of the cave collapsing in on them. And suddenly she realizes where the scream has come from, and suddenly she doesn't feel quite so sympathetic, or quite so willing to offer a helping hand.

Another scream, filled with a kind of agony that sends shivers down her spine, and Katniss cringes once again. Even though she would love nothing more than to see him dead, the girl can't help but pity him in that moment. No one deserves to experience that kind of pain - not even a monster. At least, she thinks with a kind of grim humour, it proves that he can feel anything at all. Cato may have been twisted and vile, but if anything it gave her a kind of relief to learn that he actually was just as human as the rest of them after all. Maybe not in all ways, of course, but at least she knew that he could hurt just the way he had hurt the ones he killed.

Just the way he had hurt her.

"Stop screaming," she hisses under her breath at the next noise he makes, irrational anger coming full-force as she narrows her eyes at him, his mangled figure illuminated by the beams of light slipping through the entrance of the cave. "No one's coming to help you. It'll take up your energy, do you more harm than good."

Katniss doesn't know why she's giving him life-saving advice at that moment, and she doesn't care to dwell on it. Instead, she places a look of anger on her face and shifts to cross her arms over her chest, wincing at the lightning bolt of pain that rockets up her leg. _Right. _If she wanted to make it out of there alive she would have to remember to set that later, when she found the proper supplies.

"Don't _fucking_ tell me what to do," she hears him spit, fury in his voice as he turns his face away so their eyes don't meet. Katniss can hear the pain in there too - his voice is thick with it - but she couldn't give a damn. If he doesn't want her help, then fine. Better chance of her being the one to survive.

"I was just trying to help," she snarles back, ignoring the humourless chuckle that comes from the other side of the cave. He says something after that, but it's quite and to himself and she finds she can't make out the words. It's not as if it makes a difference to her, anyways. Instead she goes back to blatantly ignoring him, leaning her head back against the wall and trying to think of the ways that she can set her leg with the things she has. The only things she can think of are her arrows - her mother had shown her how to make a traction splint, once, and out of anything they'll do the best job of keeping the bone in place. When she has the energy, she decides, she'll have to make that her first priority.

Suddenly she notices something in the back of her mind; it's been at least ten minutes since she spoke, and apart from occasional moans and groans, her companion has been relatively silent. Katniss smirks and, whether it's just from the pain or some sort of sudden rush of false-confidence, she finds herself unable to hold back a remark.

"Well, look who's taking my advice. I thought that getting help from district twelve scum like me would be beneath you?" Her tone is scathing, meant to strike some sort of cord in him, but instead the only response that her words illicit from Cato is a sullen laugh. _Strange_, she notes,_ didn't think he was capable of making such a noise_. Because it's the first thing that's come out of his mouth that hasn't sounded remotely menacing, or cruel, or insane. The only thing that she could hear in his voice was a slight amount of pain, and Katniss was quite certain that he was holding that back entirely.

"It's not beneath me if' it's going to save my life, and bring me one step closer to shoving my knife down that bitchy little throat of yours."

_Ah, that was more like it,_

"Or maybe it's brining me one step closer to finally tearing you off of that pedestal you seem to be so damn comfortable on." Katniss thinks about killing him then, how it will feel when she finally regains her strength and is able to pierce an arrow straight through his heart, and she's surprised to find that the idea actually..._excites _her. Surprised and horrified, because she's not supposed to enjoy death. She's supposed to be the good one, to save all sick pleasure for the careers. Except she cannot deny that she would love nothing more than to watch the light leave Cato's icy blue eyes, and she cannot deny that it doesn't disgust her as much as she thought it might.

"I was born on that pedestal, Fire Bitch. It's where I belong." His tone is patronising, at at that moment she wishes nothing more that to be able to wipe that devilish smirk off of his face once and for all. "You, on the other hand, were born in dirt and grim. You were born in _filth_. But don't worry, I plan on sending you back there soon enough." In the dim light Cato is trying to look tough, to intimidate her once more, but she can see the agony written on his face. Maybe he will kill her, but he won't have the strength to do it any time soon.

"And how do you plan on doing that when you can't even move?" she asks sickly-sweet, although the malice in her voice is clear. "We've got a week, tops, before the two of us die in this cave and Thresh is the winner. You really think you're even going to be able to move, let alone kill me, before then?" They both know the answer to that question, but clearly the career is just as stubborn as she is, and just as unwilling to accept any sort of defeat. She should have expected as much.

"The game makers will save us before then," he says with a roll of his eyes, as if she's a complete idiot for even suggesting otherwise. "They're not going to just let us die in here - that's way too boring. The Capitol wants a show, and we're definitely not giving them one right now." Katniss hates to admit it, but he might just be right. Although she's almost certain that Seneca Crane has something bigger up his sleeves, something neither of them will be able to guess; although what that is, she won't be able to figure out. All she can do is return his glare.

"The game makers put us in here," she replies, eyes glancing up at the ceiling as if she was looking into Crane's eyes right then. "They're not just going to let us out."

Seneca watched the scene unfold on the screen with a grin on his face - it was _perfect. _The Capitol was in complete chaos over the events of the last couple of hours. Their Fire Girl and the ruthless killer from two, stuck in a cave with no means of escape, and no hope of killing the other. No one had any idea what to expect, which in other words meant that he had done his job well.

"It's time," he told the people at their screens, smiling in anticipation as he flicked on the microphone next to him. This would be a special broadcast, one meant for Katniss and Cato specifically.

It was time to get the _real_ games started.

"Good afternoon, Katniss and Cato."

The voice coming from the ceiling of the cave snapped Katniss out of her daydreaming - the pain was too intense for her to sleep, so she had taken to merely trying to tune her companion out as much as possible by thinking happier thoughts. Thoughts of home, thoughts of braiding Prim's hair and hunting with Gale. Thoughts of what she could have done, like baked cakes with Peeta or written letters to Rue. Thoughts that should have depressed her but only gave her more and more determination to win, thoughts that made her more and more aware of the fact that the boy sleeping across from her needed to die.

But now there was Seneca Crane, talking through the speakers just to the two of them, and all of a sudden Katniss had the feeling that neither of them would be dying any time soon. Not if the Capitol had anything to say about it - and they usually did.

"We have a small proposition for you." Both of them were listening intently now, casting a furtive glance at each other out of the corners of their eyes. Whatever this was, it could either be very bad, or very, very good. "Both of you are hurt. You need medical supplies. Splints for broken bones, ointment for cuts and burns, food, water. And we can give you all of that...so long as you're willing to make a deal. A deal that will benefit all parties involved."

_No! _Katniss' mind immediately screamed, but she found she didn't have it in her to outright refuse. Because what if...what if she could heal herself, and then kill Cato? Her injuries would take less time, she could take him down when he was sleeping and get herself one step closer to home. "I'm listening," she spoke, her voice sounding of steel, and Cato glared at her like she was insane. _Let him, _she thought, a small smirk appearing on her face that she thought might not be so different from the one that always graced his, _I'm not the one who's going to die down here. I'm the one going home._

_"_We will give you the supplies...if you swear not to try to kill each other until you face off against the other tribute. Help each other. Heal each other. Bring each other to the final two, and then you can see who the true victor is. Kill each other before then, and you die too.

"You will have two hours to make your decision. The choice is yours. Good luck, and may the odds be _ever _in your favour."

_No. _She needed to kill Cato now, she needed him weak, she needed him soon.

_No. _It was too risky, he could turn against her in a second.

_No_. She owed Rue, she owed Prim, she owed Peeta.

_No._ There was no way she could heal a killer, a savage, a beast.

_No_. But of course, she knew what her answer had to be.

"Yes," she whispered, fear in her voice as she spoke the word she prayed she would not regret. "Yes, I accept the deal. I accept."

"Yes," she heard Cato say, his voice raw and wavering but still clearly filled with anger, and in those words her fate was sealed.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: sorry it took so long for this to get up! First week of uni is crazy hectic, and I just haven't had time.**_  
_**and to the person who thought I had to be a boy - I assure you, I'm a girl. I've just got a penchant for violence, that's all XD**_

_**Enjoy, and please review! At least 10 on this chapter before I move on!**_

xx

For a moment the two of them simply stare at each other, neither saying a word. It's as if a complete hush has taken over the world - although, of course, Katniss knows that that's not true, because she knows what must be happening in the Capitol right now.

_Pandemonium. _

Districts Two and Twelve working together, aiming and assisting towards a common goal? It's unheard of. More likely than not, none of the citezens had heard Seneca's announcement, or had heard information on the deal. If she knows the games, they probably just showed the two of them agreeing to an alliance, agreeing to assist each other towards the end. And if she knows the gamemakers, if she knows the Capitol, she knows that that's not all they want. They want what her and Peeta were trying to give them, although ultimately failed at upon his death. They want what people have always wanted, what they think makes every story _true_ and every performance worth watching.

They want romance. Epic, head-over-heels, forbidden love, and they're going to expect the two of them, Katniss and Cato, Twelve and Two, the Girl on Fire and the ruthless, heartless killer to give it to them. The thought alone is enough to bring bile to her mouth, but she swallows it down, unwilling to show any weakness in that moment.

"What do you think will happen next?" she asks, an attempt to break the now deafening silence with a legitimate question. Because how do the gamemakers plan on getting them out of this? The cave is sealed - they're trapped, simple as that. No parachutes are getting in and out of there anytime soon, it's impossible, it must be. Katniss can only hope that they'll find a way soon; she can feel the energy quickly draining from her body, and she think that Cato must be in the same position.

His answer to her question is a gruff, humourless laugh that reverberates through the cavern. "Fuck should I know," he mutteres, as if her question was the stupidest one that had ever been asked. "They're the gamemakers. They do what they want, simple as that. And we're their little playthings."

It's a shock for Katniss to hear him say those words with such bitter disgust in his voice, and she can't help but stare at him through the dim lighting in confusion. His hostility isn't a concern - she hadn't been expecting anything less, 'partnership' or not. She had simply been under the impression that everyone from the inner districts _loved_ the games and all that came with them. But from the way Cato growls as he says the words, fist clenching and unclenching in a way that simply cannot be from the pain, she realizes that there must be much more to his story than what's lying on the surface.

She tries desperately to keep her mouth shut, not wanting to delve into something personal or deep, and especially not wanting to delve into it with _Cato_, of all people. But her innate curiosity takes over before she can stop herself, and Katniss finds her mouth taking on a life entirely it's own.

"You hate them."

It's a statement more of a question - because he does, he must. Sixteen years of living in the shadows have taught her how to read people, and at that moment Cato can be read clear as day, even sitting ten feet away from her in the near-pitch lighting of the cave. He whips his head up to her then, fuming anger mixed with disbelief at her words.

"What the fuck are you on about now?" he growled, eyes narrowed in a way that's supposed to be threatening, but in his current state is weak and ineffectual. "I hate lots of things, Fire Bitch. You're going to have to be more specific."

"First of all, we're _partners _now. No more Fire Bitch." Katniss has a feeling that her words will have no effect on him, but she figures it has to be said anyways. She's sick of being called Fire Bitch, and although she's certain the Capitol is _loving _the name and probably taking it as some sort of flirty banter, she'd rather never have to hear it again. "And second of all, you know what I'm talking about; the Games. You hate them. Why?"

Why would someone, who was trained his entire life to _enjoy_ this, be sickened by it? Even though he's trying to keep his face indifferent and even, she can see the sickening rage smouldering beneath the clear blue surface of his eyes.

"You're fucking insane, Fire Bitch. I never said anything about hating the games; I was _born _for this. I _live_ for every single kill. Simple as that." She can tell that he's itching to add something else, something about how he's going to savour the moment he watches her life pour out of her eyes, but he glances up at the roof of the cave and holds himself back, likely for the sake of the partnership they've just formed, the one that's the only thing standing between them and death.

Thinking of the partnership suddenly sparks an idea in Katniss' mind. Seneca had said that he would give them the supplies they needed if they worked together...but he wanted more. She knew he did. And she had the sinking feeling that if she gave them more, if they faked their way through this thing just believably enough, if they could force a solid alliance, to friendship, to...whatever else they would have to do, then Seneca would give them what they needed so desperately. All she needed to do was convince Cato of her plan and they would be set, but she had a sinking feeling that it would be easier said than done.

Ignoring the bursts of pain that jolted through her leg, she scoots her way towards where Cato was resting and, ignoring his scathing looks, leaned herself towards him before he could say a word. "_Follow my lead," _she hissed into his ear, pulling back quickly and forcing a sympathetic look onto her face.

"I know...I know how you felt, having Clove die and not being able to do anything about it. You felt powerless, out of control. I felt it too, with Rue." She reaches over to clasp her hand over his non-broken one, looking into his eyes with a stare that screamed _'play along if you want to make it out of here. Don't fuck this up.' _He couldn't, she wouldn't let him. This was her once chance at survival, at getting back to Prim, of avenging Peeta and Rue and all the other people who she had lost. "But we can get out of here. Together, we can have a shot at this thing. We can win it, for them. And you can go back home." Her words hold true enough, and it's easy to act if she imagines that it's Peeta she's talking to, that it's Peeta's ice blue eyes that she's staring into with compassion.

"I know we hate each other. At least, I know we're _meant_ to. But we both want to make it out of here, don't we? Maybe there's a chance that we can make it out together."

The crushing silence takes over again, paralysing her body and making her breath catch in her throat. This is it. All Katniss can do is pray that Cato's not as dumb as he looks, that all those years he spent training for the games have given him _some_ semblance of survival skills, of common sense. She can almost sense what's going on in his mind right now - he's disgusted by the fact that a District Twelve rat is touching him, and that she's his one hope of making it out of there alive. He feels weak, useless, trapped.

His ego has been wounded, his pride challenged, and she keeps her fingers crossed and prays that he's not stupid enough to allow that to get in the way.

After what feels like years of waiting with bated breath, he sights and returns the squeeze to her hand, although it's a little too tight and she swears he's trying to crush some of her bones as he does it. "I know," he states simply, and to her astonishment Cato is a better actor than she could have imagined. _Good_. So he had some sense to him after all. "You're right. It's not going to be easy, trusting in you, but...we have to try, don't we? It's our only shot. We have to try."

For a moment, she thinks she could almost believe his words. They're said with such a genuine hope, an unfaltering compassion that it makes her question what kind of person he's been all along. But then he's leaning down and whispering words into her ear, just like she had moments before, although his are of a slightly less-encouraging variety.

"_The minute I rip my sword through Eleven's throat you're mine, Fire Bitch." _

xxx

Behind his gleaming white desk Seneca lets out a booming laugh, clapping his hands together in sheer excitement. This...this is beyond anything he had expected. He didn't think they would figure it out so quickly, but apparently the tributes had some brains to them this year. _Good_. They were playing perfectly into his hands.

"Sir?" a squeaky voice from behind him calls out, and he turns to see a nervous-looking woman holding a screen within her hands, glancing from it up to him in anxious anticipation. "News from the Capitol is showing that Hunger Games ratings are higher than ever - every single screen is tuned into them. People are going wild, chanting their names in the streets. In a matter of hours they've become the most popular games yet."

A snake-like smile spreads over his face, and the words come as no shock to him. Of course they have. Snow will be pleased; after this turn of events, all thoughts of the rebellion that the Twelve kids had started will have been squashed. After all, how would the follow a girl who was trusting herself with a _killer_?

"Perfect," he grinned, the word slow and drawn out as he turned his gaze back to the screens in front of them, where Cato and Katniss were still locked in intense conversation, huddled close together with the beast of a boy whispering into her ear. "Open hole in the roof and drop the first parachute. It's time our tributes got a little reward - after all, they're putting on _such _ a good show for us, don't you think?"

xxx

The crumbling of the rocks from the roof not far to the left of Katniss snaps the two of them out of their eye-contact, much to the relief of both; one more moment, and either one of them could have ended up killing the other without warning.

She opens her mouth to ask what had happened before the answer becomces blaringly obvious, the familiar beeping bringing a relieved smile to her face. _She had done it._ Well, _they_ had done it, but unwilling to give Cato credit that he didn't deserve, she felt she would keep the glory all to herself. As soon as the metal cannister dropped she snatched it from the ground greedily, hungry eyes taking it in with delight and anticipation. This could be _it_, their ticket out, their saving grace.

"Give it here," Cato snarls, easily ripping the canister out of her hands with his one good one. Katniss was about to reprimand him or tackle him - likely both - for snatching it from her, but instead chose to sit back and watch with an amused expression as he tried to open it with only one hand and failed. Repeatedly.

_Self-righteous idiot._

"Need some help there tough guy?" she asks with all-too-false concern, blinking at him innocently behind a wolfish grin. He simply grumbled, fumbling with it a moment more before shoving it back into her hands. Smiling and entirely self-satisfied, Katniss opened the canister at ease, revealing three syringes and a note, typed up in black, bold-face font like the parachutes Haymitch had sent her in the past.

_**For your broken bones.**_

_**First of three needed doses for full recovery.**_

_**You're going to have to work a little harder**_  
_**for the next two.**_  
_**Give us what we want next time.**_  
_**- S.C.**_

_First of three_. They were so painfully close she could almost taste it. Eyeing the syringes with sheer delight that she didn't even attempt to hid clear in her stormy grey eyes, Katniss tossed the note to Cato, pulling out the first syringe and realizing that it had to go into his arm. Arm first, then his leg, then her own. He wouldn't be able to give it to himself, and besides, the Capitol would probably _eat it up _if she pretended to play nurse with him.

"_Give us what we want next time," _Cato's gruff voice snapps her out of her thoughts, and she turned to him with question in her eyes. His own reach up to meet hers, and this time she sees genuine confusion and concern - not acted, not forced. And the finally she's realizing what he's saying, and her eyes widen slightly as the true meaning of the words sink in.

No more meaningful conversations. No more signs of solidarity or agreements of truce or squeezing each other's hands as a sign of comfort. Those aren't going to cut it any more, not with Seneca, not with the Capitol. Katniss had known it was coming, had seen it since his stupid announcement, but she had thought that they might have a little more time, that they might be safe for a while. But she knew what was happening - the Capitol was getting bored.

Of course they were. Thresh was out there in the forest on his own, Cato and Katniss were stuck in a cave, and nobody was dying. Nobody was getting killed. Nobody was professing their undying love to each other with the knowledge that they would never step outside of the arena together and be able to make it out for real.

They want the romance, and they want it _fast_.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: hey all! Thanks for the awesome reviews! The big first kiss is coming up next chapter, and then the battle with Thresh, so stay tuned and keep reviewing. Also, next chapter will be from Cato's POV, so we can see what's going on in that brain of his XD**_

_**Once again: At least ten reviews until I add a new chapter. Reviews are what I LIVE for, so please, keep them coming! With 50+ people following this story I should be getting a lot more than what I am, so try to just leave a quick little note telling me what you think. It takes five seconds, and the more I get the faster I update, so try to review! **_

xx

"What...what do we do?"

Katniss is sure to keep her voice a hushed whisper, something which she hopes the camera's can't pick up - although even if they can, she's sure that the gamemakers have switched the attention back to Thresh for the moment, giving them time to discuss without the Capitol citizens hearing their every word. If she knows Seneca's style, she knows that he won't want them hearing any more than what they have to; they'll hear the romance, the declarations of love, but nothing else. They won't know of the alliance; it all has to be '_real_', or as real as they can make it look.

"We have to move fast." Cato states simply, although she can tell he's just as infuriated by the knowledge as she is. He doesn't want this any more than her, Katniss has to remind herself, probably _less, _and to simply know that is as much comfort as she can hope for in this twisted situation that they've gotten themselves into. Two days maximum before the two of them were as good as dead - they both know what happen when the Capitol gets bored. "If we take it too slow they'll get impatient, and..." he trails off for a moment, almost looking embarrassed before he turns back to her, face burning with an infuriated frustration. "I don't know how much longer I'll last if we don't get healed up soon."

It's a true enough statement for the both of them. Although Katniss doesn't want to admit it, she's _starving_, and she thinks it must have been days since her last meal. The life is slipping away from both of them, they know it, and although she wouldn't mind terribly if Cato suddenly lost himself completely, she knows that she would be following him not long after; especially if they decide that without her new _ally_, she's useless.

"Well we can't just stab ourselves with needles and then jump each other. It's not realistic." Katniss frowns as she says the words, lips twisting into a disgusted grimace at the knowledge that she's going to have to be kissing him, touching him, pretending she _loves_ him. She didn't love Peeta, not quite the way he wanted her to, but when he kissed her she didn't feel like she had to shrink away, when he touched her she didn't want to slither back in disgust. But with Cato...the thought of having his hands all over her is enough to make her feel sick, and the fact that everyone at home will be watching her fling herself into the arms of a murderer, the boy -_ man_, she supposes, because there's nothing boyish about him any more - is simply horrifying. She'll look pathetic. Weak. A betrayer. A joke.

But she has the feeling that Cato is having the same emotions about the whole thing, because his face is twisted up with a kind of disgust that she's sure has to do with the fact that he has to pretend to care about a rat from Twelve. Katniss would almost be insulted if she didn't feel the exact same way about him. Now isn't the time for pettiness or prejudice or hurt feelings, however. Now is the time that they try to save their own lives.

Eyeing the first needle warily, she gives Cato a stern look and leans over slightly so that she's in a better position to stick him with it. "Hold still," she says softly, knowing that it's likely the camera's are on them once more, and not willing to take the risk that they're not. He seems to understand the meaning behind her tone because immediately his face softens oh-so-slightly, only pain to be seen in his crystalline blue eyes, and yet again she finds herself impressed by his acting skills. _They were trained for this all their life_, she recalls as she attempts to steady her shaking hand. _They know what they have to do in order to survive, and they'll do it perfectly. _It's impressive, but sickening at the same time.

When she injects the fluid into his arm he doesn't even flinch - a good sign, she supposes, but then again the Careers are trained to ignore pain as best they can, and deal with it in silence. Were it as painful as she suspects it must be, he wouldn't even bat an eyelid. "Okay?" she asks him, trying to make the worry in her voice sound genuine and not sarcastic, and when he nods at her not entirely sharply, she thinks that she must have done a good enough job.

The needle in his leg goes much the same way, and when she's done she pulls back to give him a questioning look. "Does it feel any different?" Katniss doesn't know how fast these things work, as back in District Twelve all the money in their community wouldn't even be able to buy them one. They relied on healing the old-fashioned way, but she always got the feeling that Capitol medicine was no where near as painful, nor did it take as long to kick in. Yet another horrible unfairness caused by poverty, but something she had learned to live with.

"I can feel it healing. The bones are repairing themselves, not completely, but they're getting there." It's soothing enough news for Katniss, and she passes him the needle meant for her own leg in contented silence. "I've had to use these things before, during training. They usually work quickly enough for one, but I guess they dropped the strength of the doses just for us."

She's not surprised by that news at all - of course Seneca would do that, couldn't have them getting off too easy, right? But what she _is_ surprised by is his casual statement, the fact that breaking bones was such a common thing to him during his training sessions, the ones that made up the majority of his childhood. Katniss knows it was an off-hand comment, she's not stupid, but feeling an opportunity arise she takes it upon herself to keep the conversation going. It's not romance, not what Seneca or the Capitol wants, but she figures the build-up might be enough to keep them sated for a while, and that's as good as she can hope for.

"You hurt yourself in training a lot?" she asks, wincing a little as he jabs the needle into her leg but hoping that he's getting where she's trying to go with this. The people love heart-felt conversations, don't they? Katniss knows how they are, and she's betting on the fact that they'll eat it up. "That...that sounds horrible. That's not a way for a child to grow up."

He bristles at her words, as she would expect, but since Cato doesn't lash out right away she's hoping that he catches on to her intentions well enough. He's not stupid, contrary to what she had though prior to their little arrangement, and hopefully he's smart enough to pick up on this.

"Yeah. We had to fight our trainers starting at age ten, so broken bones and concussions were pretty common. But it wasn't a big deal." The way he's so blase about the whole thing lets her know that he's being honest, although she supposes it could just be another trick of his acting. With Cato she had a feeling she would never know, and Katniss supposes it's better that way. "We were used to it. When it's how you're raised it doesn't bother you. That was my childhood, and I liked it."

This admission honestly doesn't sit right with Katniss, and acting or not, she can't help the words that slip out of her mouth next. "That's not a childhood. That's _cruelty_. They never even gave you a chance to see what kind of person you would become." And she can't help but wonder - what kind of person _would_ Cato be, were he not raised the way he was? Someone like Gale, she thinks, with a little bit more of a mean streak. She can imagine him for a moment, all sarcastic and biting yet still fiercely protective and loyal, and the image is actually rather nice.

Then she meets his eyes, the ice-blue eyes of a predator burning with an undisguised rage, and the image is gone as soon as it arrived.

"It's not _like_ that. Not where I'm from. To be brought into the Academy is an honour." Cato's words are robotic, as if he's been trained to say them her entire life, and she has to force herself not to roll her eyes in disgust. She's about to say more when she feels a warm tingling spreading throughout her legs, the sensation rather pleasant, and she realizes suddenly that it's the medicine kicking in, the bones repairing themselves.

"_Amazing_," she whispered, hushed voice full of awe, and again she finds herself wondering what life would be like in her district if they just had things like these. Something so simple, so commonplace to people like Cato, but to the people from Twelve they could be the difference between life or death. The people her mother could have saved with them...it's almost too depressing to think about. Because life in Twelve isn't going to change, not any time soon, and she has to stop trying to convince herself differently.

It's a moment before she realizes Cato is looking at her curiously, eyebrows raised at her in what must be genuine confusion. "I'm guessing you guys don't have stuff like this out in the slums?"

_The slums_. The off-handed way he says it infuriates her, but she chooses to ignore the slur for the sake of the cameras. Instead she shakes her head, glancing at the empty syringes in a mixture of appreciation and anger. "No. We don't have much stuff out in Twelve. If you win you'll get to see it on the victory tour, but there isn't much to see. The odds aren't exactly in our favor out there. Most of us don't even stand a chance." Her words are said with true honesty, a passion for her home clear in her voice. If she makes it out of there, Katniss vows to herself that she'll do _something_ to help the people who really need it. It's probably unrealistic, probably not going to happen, not if Snow can help it, but the thought itself is so uplifting that she tries to hold onto it for as long as she possibly can.

They sit in silence for a moment more, Cato processing what she's just said, and Katniss trying to imagine a Twelve where people actually had _enough_. Not excess, not an abundance of things they didn't need, but enough. Enough to get by, to be happy and healthy, to not have to worry day in and day out about what they were going to eat, or if they were going to make any money at all. An impossible dream, of course - she knew that Snow liked to keep the districts in poverty to avoid rebellion, she's not an idiot - but a dream that might just be enough to get her through the next couple of days, to allow her to do what she has to to survive.

She holds on to the thought of Prim and her mother, living in a house with a proper roof over their heads, with food to eat on a daily basis. She imagines the Mellarks, not having to worry about income while mourning the loss of their son. And she imagines Rue's family, somewhere in Eleven, able to sleep with the knowledge that while their daughter didn't get the death she deserved, at least she didn't die alone.

"I've known it since I first saw you," he turns his head back to her then, and although Katniss can see the disgust reflected in Cato's eyes, see how it's paining him to say them out loud, his face is impassive and his voice is filled with nothing but honesty. "I've known that you were strong. Not the kind of strong that I am, or that Clove...that Clove _was." _He winces as he says her name, eyes squeezing tight, and she's almost positive it's not acting now, or at least then. "You've got a strength inside you, Katniss. Don't let go of that, _ever_."

Katniss can only imagine the Capitol's reaction at that moment. Swooning, sighing - she wouldn't be surprised if there was some overly-dramatic fainting involved either. But she pushes that to the side of her mind, knowing that the lies she's about to spew out to Cato won't come as easily to her as they will to him; after all, she's always had trouble with hiding her emotions, where he's been raised to do it. All she can do is try to muster up a weak smile in his direction, one that she hopes conveys an emotion which she herself cannot feel.

And then she remembers her strategy from last time - think of Peeta. So she looks at the blond hair and the soulful blue eyes, pushes the rage and disgust out of them and replaces it with love, takes the forced smile and turns it into a real one, and all of a sudden her shoulders aren't quite so stiff, and her eyes aren't quite so hard.

"You know, I was wrong. About you, I mean. You're not terrible, Cato. You're...you're a lot better than I thought you ever were. A _lot_." She's about to continue, make some passionate speech like he did, but all of a sudden she feels a bout of lethargy kicking in as the warm tickles spread to her brain, and before she can help it her eyes are starting to flutter closed. _No_. She doesn't want to sleep next to him, to be so vulnerable while she's this close to him, but she doesn't think that anything can be done about it no matter how hard she tries to fight it off. "Why am I so sleepy?" she yawns, eyes open just a crack. "Why aren't you?"

She dimly notes a gruff laugh next to her, feels her body move as he shifts her weight so that she's resting on his shoulder instead of the other way around, and suddenly she realizes just how good the warmth of another body feels against her in the clammy cool of the cave. "I'm a lot bigger than you, Katniss. Go to sleep."

_No Fire Bitch for a while_, she notes, eyes drifting shut as she feels something soft pressing against her forehead, the back of her mind thinking with confusion that they must have been his lips.

The last noise she hears is the beeping of a parachute before she's lulled into sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey guys! So this chappie was really fun, but hard to write, since it was from Cato's POV. I really like it though, and I hope it will clear things up; specifically the question of why the Capitol is so willing to except the completely irrational romance. Also, it goes more in-depth with Cato's past - something that will get lots of flashbacks in the future, hopefully!**

**Remember to REVIEW! We got 18 reviews on the last chapter, so before I add a new one I'm hoping we can get to 20! The more reviews = longer chapters. This one is 1000 words longer than normal! **

**Enjoy xx**

xxx

Cato watches her as she sleeps, eyes flickering over the figure of the Girl on Fire with mild curiosity. The needles have yet to have affected him, and probably won't the way they do her - he is, after all, practically twice her size, and had been injecting those things into his broken bones since he was a child. He can feel his head begin to cloud, his eyes get a touch heavier, but sleep is nowhere near him. Not yet.

She's rather strange, he decides, as he takes in her unconscious figure. His feelings for her are still nothing but disgust and anger - a day in this cave won't change that. She's still Fire Bitch to him, even if he can't say it to her face any more. And yet there's something rather intriguing about her, something he, and the rest of Panem, had noticed from the start of the Games. Even as she sleeps against the wall of the cave he can see it; the fire that radiates off of her, burning from within. She had never needed the flaming dresses or the red jewels, the licks of fire had never been necessary to convey her persona. Because he saw it, the Capitol saw it - everyone did.

Flames or not, she _was_ the Girl on Fire.

And he hated her for it.

Cato understands what he has to do, however. He's been trained for this his whole life, not only to kill, but to know how to win over the Capitol. To know how they think. And he knows - he knows their irrationality, their desperation for something _amazing_ and _entertaining _to fill the empty void in their meaningless lives. He knows that they only care about one thing, and that's the excitement of it all, and the idea that everything and everyone revolves around them. The idea that these games were made for _them_; the idea that twenty three children are dying a year because of _them_.

He knows what they want. They don't care that the two of them have only been trapped in a cave for a day, that they've only had two _'conversations' _that would hint towards anything other that mutual hatred and disgust. They don't care that the entire thing is completely irrational and stupid and doesn't make any sense - if anything, that makes them like it even more. The Capitol wants needless, senseless drama to distract them from the endless monotony of their daily lives, and they always get what they want. It would almost be pitiful, he thinks, were it not so damn gut-wrenchingly disgusting.

The metal canister that had just arrived for the two of them moments ago flashes in the sunlight, reminding Cato of what he must do if he wants to survive. He reaches over to grab the container, noting dimly that the pain in his arm has been numbed to practically half; it's still there, and still severe, but it's enough that he can fight through it with a straight face. It's nothing unlike anything he's ever dealt with before, in any case.

Prying off the top to reveal three more syringes, the career flashes a toothy grin. So, clearly the two of them were doing _something _right. The kiss on her forehead must have sent the people into an absolute tizzy, although he's positive that soon it won't be enough. They're getting bored, restless, impatient, and they're probably in an uproar at that very moment. It wouldn't surprise him; the Capitol always seemed to go into mass-panic whenever something in _their_ Games - because they were their Games, really - didn't go exactly how they wanted it to. A lack of action wasn't something they dealt with well, and since their wouldn't be any action until both Cato and Katniss were fully healed, this little 'union' that they had developed over the course of a mere few hours was what they had to deal with and be happy.

There's another note this time around, this one significantly longer and much more blunt. Cato grins humorlessly as he reads it, eyes narrowing as they take in every word written in the bold black ink.

_**Twenty-four hours.**_

_**That's how long you have until we begin the finale.**_

_**These last two doses will work quicker without any side-effects, but won't be quite as easy to get your hands on. You're going to have to work for your survival. Remember: everybody likes teamwork, right?**_

_**Shove aside your prejudice for a moment and think about home.**_

_**We don't care about how believable you make it. All we care about is that you make it happen.**_

_**Twenty-four hours.**_

So, their hands were being forced. This fact comes as no shock to him, although the words leave a trail of rage in him as they pass through his mind. _He can't_. He'll become the joke of his district, the _boy_ who let himself become weak, vulnerable, all so he could kiss a slum rat from Twelve. That was all she was, really. Strong, yes. Passionate, yes. Dangerous? Certainly. But strip it all away, strip her to the core and all you were left with was a filthy, malnourished rodent modeled on trash. To kiss her knowing that it would be broadcast to all the world would not only shame him, but shame District Two, shame his family and shame the people he loved.

To kiss her would be to play into the Capitol's hand, doing exactly what they want him to do. To kiss her would be giving them the satisfaction of knowing that the world was constantly spinning in their favour.

His mind flashes, only for a moment, to a memory he had long since shoved back, and a pain much different than the one in his arm and leg is sent rocketing through his body. It's foggy and choppy, but he can hear the sounds of distant laughter ringing through his mind, smell wildflowers and feel soft, warm hand clasping his own desperately. He can remember golden hair and sharp gray eyes and freckles and a smile laced with intrigue and secrets, but they are pieces of a puzzle that he can no longer fit together.

He remembers parts, though. He remembers enough.

The reaping. How she volunteered, back straight, chin up, dancing eyes hard. The tribute parade, where she had worn some decadent costume laced with gold and looked like an angel. The evaluations, where she got a solid ten and her face flashed across the screen, smile practically screaming that she knew something no one else did, that she knew the way out. The interviews, where she had calmly told Caesar that she had something _'wicked'_ up her sleeve, and she had smiled and laughed and flirted and the audience had gone crazy.

Most of all, he remembers the games. Cato remembers watching as she cuts throat after throat, impales tribute after tribute with her knives and does it all with a monstrous smile on her face, so unlike the one she used to wear back home. He remembers the time she killed a little girl with a sword and then dragged her tongue slowly across the blade, licking off the blood as if she was absorbing their very essence. He remembers when they announced her victor, when her teeth had gleamed in the pale moonlight and her eyes had burned with something he had never seen before, would never see again, until Katniss Everdeen.

And then he remembers her returning home, except she didn't smell like wildflowers, and her hands were rough and cracked and she wouldn't let him hold them in her own, and she didn't smile, and when she laughed it really sounded like she was crying.

He remembers the Peacekeepers taking her away. He remembers his mom saying something to his father, something about '_the highest bidder'_ and that _'they never even gave her a choice'_. He remembers being told that he would never see her again, that she had responsibilities to the people that must be fulfilled. Cato didn't understand it then, but he understands it now, and once more he is reminded of why he is sitting there still, why the Girl on Fire is still living, why he will do what he must in order to stay alive.

His parents already lost one child to the Capitol. He won't allow them to lose another.

In the flickering light of the cave while she sleeps, he allows himself to think for a moment that Katniss almost looks like Prosper. It's not in her hair, certainly, or even really her face itself. It's in the way that, even while she's sleeping, she looks determined, ready to put up a fight and take down whatever comes her way. For a moment all of his hatred for the girl is gone, and once again all he can feel is a dim sense of curiosity, a wondering of what is going on within the mind of Katniss. He wonders, then, if that's something he really _wants _ to want to know, and upon deciding that it's not, not at all, he turns his face away and looks back over to the syringes.

First things first, they should be injected with them. Cato decided to opt for Katniss' first - he's hoping, somewhere in the back of his mind, that it's actually poison and that maybe he'll be able to kill her without even really trying. But she stays sound asleep when he stabs it in her leg, face with the same determined expression plastered on, and he allows himself a moment of disappointment before injecting his own two into his arm and leg.

Seneca wasn't lying - these ones _did_ work much faster. The moment the fluid was released he could feel the tingling warmth start within his bones, slowly spreading up his body in a way that he was accustomed to, but still allowed himself to enjoy. This wasn't just any ordinary feeling - this was the feeling of strength, of his power slowly coming back to him. And as it spreads another, much more pleasing thought finds its way into the forefront of his mind; the thought of his sword sinking into the gut of Thresh, and then Katniss, drenched in their blood as they declare him the ultimate victor.

He'll do it without remorse. He'll strip the people of their little figurehead, their favourite, their Girl on Fire. He'll take something they love away from them, just like they did to him, and he'll do it with a smile on his face. And when he's done he'll lick the sword clean, and hope that somewhere out there, Prosper is watching him with that smile on her face.

xxx

When Katniss awakes, it is to the sound of utter silence.

For a moment she almost thinks that she is alone, that Cato has died somehow while she was out and that she might be next, and a flurry of panic sets into her chest. Because even though she would love nothing more than to see his body crumpled lifeless on the ground before her, she knows that if he is gone before Thresh is dead, then she is gone as well. And that simply cannot happen - it cannot because she made a promise to Prim, to Rue, to her district, to _Peeta_, and those are promises that she simply could not ever find it in her to break.

And then she hears it - the quiet fluttering of Cato's breath, notices the rise and fall of his chest as he sits, eyes open and staring at some unknown fascination in the wall in front of them, and she allows herself a sigh of relief. Never would she thought she would be relieved to see him alive, but now that his life is tethered to her own the feeling is indescribable, and she cannot wait for the day when that feeling is lifted from her. It is upsetting, to think that the price of that freedom is the life of another, but she won't dwell on that now. They have more important things to deal with, like getting the last three syringes.

As if hearing her thoughts, Cato wordlessly passes the note to her, blue eyes finding her face with a look of morbid curiosity to them. Waiting to see how she'll react to Crane's words, Katniss can only assume, but she won't give him the satisfaction of watching her lose her cool. Instead she keeps her face impassive as she reads over the bold script, trying desperately to squash her rage while her inside is fuming. She knew this was coming, had known it in the last letter, knew it then, but the fact that Seneca was now practically demanding that they fall into each other's arms or be killed was absurd. They had been together for what, a day? Sure, the Capitol was probably bored out of their minds, but she was certain they had to be having _loads _of fun messing with Thresh right then too. Not killing him - that was their job - but probably coming closer and closer every time. If they weren't healed, ready by the time the finale came...that was it. They were done, and Katniss would have broken the most priceless promises she had ever made.

_No. It wouldn't happen - not like that. She wouldn't let it._

Swallowing her pride, Katniss turned her gaze up to the imposing blonde next to her and cocked her head to the side, noting that he was still staring at her with the same strange look. It made her rather uncomfortable, were she being honest, although she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that he had that sort of power over her. He would only twist it to his advantage in the end, and she didn't want to be pushing him even more ahead of her than he already was.

"Did you...did you inject the second needles?" she asks him, trying to keep her voice as light and emotionless as possible for fear that some of her inner hatred might slip into her words, preventing her from being convincing in their little act.

Cato nods, blue eyes cool and impassive as he appears to be evaluating her, studying her with a mild fascination. "I did. Do you feel better?" She nods back, and then, figuring that the Capitol is probably yawning with the lack of emotion present in their brief exchange, decides to up the ante as much as she possibly can at that moment. Seneca says the people want cheesy, unintelligent romance? Well, she'll give it to them then, and she'll to it with a plastic smile on her face.

"Thank you," she says softly, placing her hand atop his and squeezing it far tighter than she should, enjoying herself far too much when Cato winces, almost imperceptibly, but just enough that she can revel in the moment. "You're really not as terrible to make yourself out to be, Cato. I..._understand_ why you tried to kill me, why you killed all of those people - you were just trying to get home. We all were." Katniss supposes the words are true, in a sense, so they flow out of her mouth with ease, but she knows that not a damn word of it is what _she_ believes. And she knows that Cato knows it too, although right then he doesn`t even look amused, or annoyed, or filled with cannibalistic rage.

He looks honestly, genuinely confused.

"I know it now. What I _really_ saw in you the first time I saw you," his words don't sound kind, exactly - rather his voice is hard and low, as if he cannot decide quite _how _he feels about this revelation. A moment into it, and Katniss feels she cannot either. "I saw _her_. You're eyes, they're identical. You're just like _her_."

He's speaking in riddles, in tongues. He's doing this to trip her up, confuse her, make her look like an idiot in front of everyone watching. She knows that he is, Katniss _knows_, but that doesn't explain why he looks so damn confused and _angry_, and why his voice sounds so raw and rough, so much so that not even someone like him can fake it. She knows and she understands and she won't let him get to her, not now, not like this, and she thinks that it must be part of his plan to get the whole 'romance' crap story up and running, but none of that explains why Cato looks like he's in mass amounts of pain - and not from his arm, or his leg, or the minor cuts that cover his face and arms.

"Who is she?" Katniss asks, and he replies, "Someone special," and before she can even say anything in return his lips are on hers, short and simple and only for a second, and yet its the most horrifying and awful second of her life.

Their lips are both chapped and dry from dehydration, and when he kisses her she can taste blood dripping out of a cut on his upper lip into her own mouth. Where Peeta was gentle and sweet and kind, Cato's simple peck is rough and unforgiving, like he's trying to punish her for getting them into this situation, like he not only despises and dislikes and hates her, but like he wants to destroy the very core of her, like he wants to eat her alive.

To the Capitol, to the districts, to Gale and her mother and Prim, she knows what it must look like. A simple kiss, short and sweet, the start of something new and wonderful and _exciting and dramatic and intriguing and something-to-root-for_, but she knows what it is.

It's a warning. Cato has just foretold her death, and sealed it with a kiss.

_Beep, beep, beep._..

But all she can hear is the sound of her own heart, thudding in her ears.


End file.
